Men of London 04 - Feat of Clay (16 page)

“You’re gay?”

“Uh-huh. All my life. Born this way, as Gaga
says. Is that a problem?”

“Er, no.” Jax stammered. “Of course not. Do I
look like a fucking homophobe?” he hissed angrily.

Tate smiled inwardly. Finally, some real
emotion.

“Nope. Just wanted to make sure that you
weren’t one of those ‘bad-word’ dick arseholes.”

There was silence. “Shouldn’t it be one of
those dicks ‘bad-word’ arseholes instead?” Jax asked acerbically.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and, head tilted, stared
challengingly at Tate who ran the words through his head and
grinned when he realised what Jax meant.

“Clever. Not that I’m getting into my sex
life with you or anything, but you are a quick one, aren’t
you?”

Jax’s next murmured words would normally have
been out of earshot, but Tate’s hearing was damned good. He
wondered if this was what was bothering Jax.

“Yes, well, that’s not anything I’m ever
likely to
get into
anyway.” Jax crossed his
arms over his chest.

Tate leaned forward. “Jax, the kids said you
got a text that upset you,” he said softly. “Anything you want to
talk about? I’m a damn good listener.” He felt a pang of guilt
suddenly because he hadn’t managed to help Lily even though he’d
listened to her too. He shoved that thought from his head. He’d
been doing okay keeping those emotions at bay and he wanted it stay
that way.

Jax’s eyes shifted to his mobile on the
bedside table. His hands fidgeted in his lap. “Nothing I want to
get into.”

“Fair enough. So is that the reason you’ve
been a real diva and locked yourself in here? Everyone was worried
about you.”

Jax shot up so quickly he almost hit Tate on
the nose with his flailing arm. He stood and stared down at
Tate.

“God, I have one bad period from trying to be
so damn happy all the time and everyone gets all bent out of shape
about it. Aren’t I allowed to be selfish every now and then? To
wallow a bit?” His voice shook. “I’m fucking human too, you know,
even though people don’t think so. They think I’m a freak.” He
swallowed and Tate saw the sheen of tears in those ruined eyes. His
heart ached at the pain etched on Jax’s marred face.

“You’re not a damn freak,” Tate said firmly.
“Who the hell’s been telling you that nonsense?”

Jax moved over to the window, hugging
himself. “Maybe you should go. I’m really not good company right
now.” His voice broke and what little self-composure he’d been
holding onto disappeared as his body shuddered with silent sobs.
Tate certainly wasn’t going to leave him in this emotional state.
He stood up and pulled Jax to him, wrapping him in his arms and
patting his back. Jax resisted at first but then heaved a
shuddering sigh and leaned into him.

Tate hadn’t thought too far ahead on this
one. He did think briefly how this would look if anyone walked in
and he was found holding Jax this way, but Tate wasn’t prepared to
let this young man do everything on his own.

“It’s fine,” he murmured soothingly. “You
don’t have to tell me everything but I’m here if you want to
talk.”

Jax sniffed and moved away from Tate, wiping
his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to
do that. I think I got snot on your top.”

Tate chuckled. “Don’t worry. It won’t be the
first time. Normally it’s my own though.”

Jax gave a watery laugh. “Thanks for the
image.” He walked to his dressing table and fumbled with a tissue
box then blew his nose loudly. When he turned around he was more
composed.

“You’re not a freak.” Tate waved a hand.
“You’re a bright, incredible young man who has his own fan base in
this house and who, despite everything he’s been through, is strong
and independent. And yes, sometimes I think we’re all at fault for
expecting someone to always be upbeat and not have down days. Of
course
you get to have hippo days.”

Jax frowned. “Hippo days?”

Tate grinned. “When you wallow. Like a hippo
in mud.”

Jax snorted, the corners of his mouth lifting
slightly. “Another great image.” His face shadowed. “I’m just
tired, you know? Of always trying to be Happy Jax. Sometimes I want
to scream, tear things up and just feel sorry for myself. The
kids…” his voice trailed off. “I love them, and I want to be
positive for them but sometimes…” His voice hardened. “Then I get a
text from some fucking twat who has no idea who I really am other
than what they see outside and it just pisses me off.”

Tate didn’t
want
to
push but he remembered the last time he
hadn’t
and how that ended. He wasn’t doing it again.
“What twat was that?”

For a minute he thought Jax wouldn’t answer
but then the young man shrugged. “Someone I met whom I thought
might be a friend. Or more.”

“More? Like a girlfriend?”

Jax hesitated and a shadow flitted across his
face. “We met at the library and I really thought maybe I’d found
someone who saw past my face to the real me. I was obviously
wrong.” He gestured to his phone. “I asked the person to coffee and
I got a text back saying, sorry, but no thanks. ‘Going out of town’
was the excuse, without an idea of when they’d be back.” He
grunted. “I know a brush off when I see one. It’s why I don’t get
friendly with people.”

Tate remembered Randy saying Jax had few
friends. “So what? Maybe she
is
going out
of town. Maybe she’ll get hold of you when she gets back.”

“And maybe they won’t.” Jax’s tone was
bitter. “All I want is someone to be with me, even kiss. Do you
know I’ve never kissed anyone properly? Like with tongue?”

Tate cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was
a bit out of his depth in this conversation about French
kissing.

Jax gestured to his face. “I kissed someone
once before this but it was nothing special. I want a real kiss,
maybe more. A
lot
more.”

Tate didn’t know what to say. Giving sex
advice to a teenager was a little out of his comfort zone.

“Maybe you should wait until the right person
comes along,” he proffered weakly. “They will, Jax. You’re no
freak, honestly. Someone will see the real you.”

Jax shook his head in frustration. “Yeah,
right. My face isn’t exactly a beacon for hope in that regard and
the fact that I’m half blind? I’m a real catch.” His voice was
scornful. “How do you think it feels to be a seventeen, nearly
eighteen-year-old virgin? My hand has never seen so much
action.”

Tate winced. It wasn’t that he was a prude,
far from it with his kinks, but this was
so
not a discussion he wanted to have with a seventeen-year-old.
“It’ll happen, in time. Maybe you need to get out a bit more. I’ve
been told you don’t do that much. The odds are more in your favour
if you do.”

Jax’s pale blue eyes stared at him fiercely.
“I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll probably die a virgin,”
he spat. “No one wants damaged goods.” He threw himself down onto
the bed and wrapped his arms around himself. Tate sat down next to
him.

“You’re wrong,” he said softly. “
I’m
damaged goods, Jax. I went through a really bad
time a couple of years ago and nearly died. It left me with a lot
of issues.” He hitched a breath as he rolled up his sleeves and
Jax’s eyes widened at the scars on his wrist.

Tate pulled up his shirt, revealing his
scarred torso. “Someone did a number on me with a razor blade and a
scalpel. He was having fun trying to create a chess board. Then he
decided he’d had enough and shot me. But I survived.”

Jax’s eyes widened in horror as he tilted his
head to better see Tate’s chest.

Tate shrugged. “I’m still getting over it.
Some people aren’t so lucky. A couple of weeks ago I was down at
the old swimming baths and met this homeless girl called Lily.
Thirteen years old. I went away to buy her some food, and when I
came back, she was dead. She’d killed herself.”

Jax gave another gasp of horror, his hand
raised to his mouth.

Tate carried on. “It made me realise
something. It made me remember that I
do
have someone, unlike Lily. I have Clay, who loves me, cares enough
about me to try and help me fix myself. It took us a long time—over
twenty years in fact—to realise we wanted and needed each other and
now I’ll be damned if I ever let him go. He’s my rock.” He leaned
forward and touched Jax’s shoulder gently. “And one day you’ll find
yours.”

Jax stared at him speechlessly. Then his lips
twisted in a wry smile. “Wow, this is a real Hallmark moment, isn’t
it?” His tone wasn’t derogatory, more self-deprecating. “I’m sorry,
I don’t mean to be facetious, Tate. I’m just processing everything
you’ve told me. First you’re gay, and then that you’ve been some
through shit yourself. One day maybe you’ll tell me all of it. Like
why you got those.” He waved at the scars.

“One day maybe,” Tate agreed. He knew he’d
never share all of it but if he could make Jax feel better for the
moment, then so be it.

They sat in companionable silence for a few
minutes then Jax sighed. “I guess I should shower, clean up my room
and get rid of the stench of teenager.” He punched Tate lightly on
his arm. “Then maybe I’ll join you for some of that chocolate cake
the kids are baking for me.” He gave a wicked smile as he stood
up.

Tate chuckled and got up too. “You are too
much, young Jax. Clay’s going to love you when he meets you.”

Jax stared at him uncertainly as he nibbled
his bottom lip. “Can I ask you something, and please don’t take
offence. What’s it like—being in a relationship with a man?”

Tate’s warning bells rang at that question.
“Like any other relationship. Two people getting through the day
and doing stuff together. Other than the physical sex bit, there’s
no difference.” His tone grew wry. “Or at least there shouldn’t
be.”

Jax’s tongue protruded as he considered his
next question. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were gay?”

Tate considered. “I think jacking off to
Sports Illustrated
and sucking Billy
Grant’s dick back in school when I was thirteen was a pretty big
indicator.” Jax’s amused snort warmed his heart. “I’d been eying
Billy out for a while and when I got the chance in the showers to
try him out, I did.” Tate shrugged. “It all made perfect sense. I’d
never been interested in girl parts like boobs and stuff.” He’d
never told Clay about
that
little
cock-sucking episode either. Knowing Clay’s jealous streak, the
least he knew about Tate’s foray into gay man life back in school
when they’d been friends the better. “And that, my friend, is
between you and me. Clay isn’t to know.”

Jax sniggered as he picked up clothes from
the floor and went to draw the curtains and open a window. “Right,
pinkie-swear.” He waved at the door. “Now get out and let me get my
shit together.”

Tate nodded. “On my way.” He moved toward the
door.

“Tate, wait.”

He turned to look at Jax.

“Thanks, for everything.” Jax said quietly.
“Sometimes a person needs a little perspective, you know?”

Tate grinned. “Better than anyone.” He left
Jax behind, his body buzzing with energy and a warm glow. He might
be a bit of a fuck-up himself, but he seemed to have done someone
some good today. His therapy session next week? He was
so
going to impress Dr. Natalie Jakes.

“So you
think you’re some sort of psychotherapist now, do you?” Clay teased
as he negotiated a bend in the road with expertise. “Like I said
before, I bet talking about sex with a seventeen-year-old really
made your day.” He laughed loudly as Tate gave him the finger.

“I didn’t say that,” Tate growled, as Clay’s
car swung into the tight country lanes both with ease and speed. “I
simply said I’m glad I got through to him the other week.” He
smiled smugly. “And Dr. Jakes said the same thing yesterday. She
was quite impressed at my teenage handling skills.”

He swore as Clay avoided a dead badger in the
road and narrowly missed the hedge on the opposite side. “Fuck,
Clay, I can see why Taylor moans about Draven’s driving. What the
heck are you trying to do, kill us?”

“I went on another defensive driving course a
couple of weeks ago.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Clay sniggered
as Tate’s jaw tightened when the SUV bypassed a slow-moving tractor
with only an inch to spare. “It’s fun testing out my driving
skills. And besides, this car is made for this sort of
driving.”

Testing out some newfound skills wasn’t all
Clay was doing. He’d also noticed a car that appeared to be
following them, a dark grey BMW. His suspicions had been aroused as
they’d gotten onto the motorway and the car had seemed to keep pace
with them. Moving into the country lanes had been a great way to
shake off a potential pursuer. He hadn’t noticed the vehicle since
he’d done that though so he was beginning to doubt his earlier
suspicion. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid. It had been a long
week.

He was also proud of himself for telling Tate
about the BMW as well. There was no way Clay wanted a repeat of the
last time he’d kept things from his lover.

“No car is made for your sort of driving,”
Tate muttered as his fingers tightened on the seat. “Christ, I
thought going undercover was dangerous. It’s nothing compared to
this daredevil shit you’re doing. Fuck, Clay, can you watch where
you’re going? Can we get back on the motorway?” He glanced behind
them. “I don’t see anyone following us now. Maybe the guy was just
out for a drive in his fancy car.”

Clay chuckled as he slid the Audi between a
slow-moving white van and a dip in the road, which would have meant
a broken axle or worse had they gone in. “Stop being such a damn
baby. I know what I’m doing. I’m a trained professional.”